Flashbacks and Memories

A rare two-day weekend away from work so I went out for breakfast this morning.

As I sat in the parking lot of the grocery store eating my biscuits and gravy, I thought about so many spring and autumn Saturday mornings, at least twenty years in my rear-view mirror, spent just two blocks away involved with youth soccer programs put on by the city.

(Winters were spent on numerous basketball courts around town and youth basketball.)

I decided to do a drive-by. 

Upon driving into the complex, I immediately recognized the red and navy-blue colors of the city staffers.

Being the rebel that I am, I would occasionally flout the navy-blue requirement, wearing black shorts instead. 

I'm sure I was spoken to once or twice about this and my boatrocking ways.

I was a little surprised today, to see the red and blue as I thought these city programs had fallen to budget cuts shortly after I last walked away.

(From what I've been reading lately, the future of such programs is once again in question depending on an upcoming vote on city funding.)

I assumed that another organization had filled the void.

I know it's cliche, but it's been at least twenty years since my last involvement and as I sat in the parking lot observing and overcome by flashbacks and memories, it felt like very recent history. 

I used to get so anxious the evening before and in the early morning of these youth soccer days but once I stepped on the fields and got busy, the anxiety would quickly fade and I'd be fine. 

I wondered today, if I hadn't walked away when I did, if I'd still be out there on these Saturday mornings and how credible my voice would be?

I used to think it was a job for the younger folks and even though I knew people appreciated seeing me out there year after year, was there a point where the ability to relate to an eight-year-old and be viewed as credible to that child's parents, began to fade or lessen?

I still remember that last day, I had spent the spring season that year, not involved with program coordination like I had for so many years before, but just refereeing games. I had worked two or three games at a field that was not my normal site, and had driven away afterwards, 95% certain that it was my last day.

But there was this little sliver of doubt (or hope) and the thought that just maybe I'd be back.

There was actually one more week of the program, but I called in sick ..... the first time in 25-ish years, other than for my nephew's funeral, that I had missed time.

I was thinking the demise of the city's youth soccer and basketball programs was coming.

I was offered some work two or three times in other city programs and had said, "No thanks."

And that was it. 

I never really felt like I quit and was proud to say that.

This current program appears quite scaled down compared to in my days.

We often used every available inch of space from 8am to 4 or 5pm. 

And one thing I don't miss in the least or mourn its absence in my life is the ceremonial gathering up of  the nets from soccer goals at the end of the day, proclaimed a vital duty and often wet, stinky .... both the nets and I .... and clinging to every blade of loose grass to later be deposited all over clothing and car interiors.

I dreaded the final whistle of games, knowing that it still was nowhere close to time to go home.

That I still had that chore ahead of me ..... often done in silent solitude as my softie persona fell for every hard luck story and excuse laid on me by staff who wanted to depart from the scene as soon as the final second ticked of the game watch.   

I probably uttered: "Go ahead and take off. I'll take care of the nets" dozens of times in that life.

They (the-powers-that-be) never placed such importance on basketball nets, a sport much more enjoyable and meaningful to a person's quality of life in my estimation.